


Tread Softly On Dreams

by Dameceles



Series: A Marriage Of States [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Cultural Differences, Dysfunctional Relationships, Female Friendship, Gen, Political Alliances, Racism, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dameceles/pseuds/Dameceles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camilla has come to live in a strange land and will be the queen of a people who do not want her. She treads softly while finding her own connections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tread Softly On Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> It's the one-year anniversary of [Into A Walled Garden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4370321/chapters/9918734)'s initial post, so here's a fic from the other side in Cam's POV!

In the dusk Camilla couldn't see the wastes and rocky terrains of her kingdom as anything but beautiful. The grey twilight barely lit the landscape and hazy blue shadows hid any stark features that looked grim in the light of day. It was a familiar and comforting sight, but one that never lasted as the new day dawned.

Yet as she watched there was something terribly amiss. No clouds hung in the sky and the sun rose an angry red, its rays seeped over the land and turned it strange. Green grass took place of tired yellow and craggy rocks gave way to tall trees until she was lost within them.

Everywhere Camilla turned she was surrounded by green, in desperation she looked to the sky only to be blinded by the sun.

A hand on her shoulder shook the Nohrian princess awake. In momentary panic she reached for the handle of her axe, until the blur was blinked from her eyes and she recognized Belka in the rosy light. It was too early for the true light of dawn to have begun, when the servants would open the shutters of the room to admit the sunshine and birdsong, but it was the right time for her retainer to wake her.

Camilla took a moment to just breathe and calm her nerves. Like all dreams that came with slumber the images that’d alarmed her were soon vague and distant, enough so that her heart forgot the fear it had evoked. Seeing that she was awake, Belka stood and walked out of sight— the sound of a sliding door and then the rustle of cloth told her that the former assassin was likely preparing the outfit she’d chosen yesterday.

Groans escaped Camilla as she rolled from her side to lay on her back and an ache in her hips came to the forefront of her awareness. The round pillow, despite it's strange stuffing, had saved her neck and shoulders from similar pains. The Hoshidonese bedding rested on a low platform rather than the floor, but still she woke with a stiff body. Although she wouldn't complain, she longed for high frames and the give of a feather mattresses and pillows.

Pushing the too light blanket away Camilla sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, for warmth as much as comfort. The early dawn air held a chill, from the castle’s height and the wet winds that blew in from the nearby coast. Yet she’d also come to learn that the sun barely peeking over the horizon would heat everything quickly as it rose in the clear skies. It was no longer gentle spring but intense summer in Hoshido, and a cloud to shade the sun’s hot rays was an anomaly here.

Camilla idly wondered what winters would be like in Shirazaki. If it could compare to the cold of Vindam, where without a tended fire the frosts would settle on the sleeping and she'd wake to find her eyelashes frozen into tiny icicles and her cheeks sprinkled with flecks of ice like cut crystal. If the cold would leave her feeling as numb as being a married woman who woke to no one beside her, to a room so wide it felt empty.

It was not like Nohrian tradition: where an heir and their spouse would be forced to inhabit the same chambers, with the hope that such quarters would bring them close in more ways than one. By contrast Hoshido felt sectioned off, like the many shifting screens that divided rooms of Shirazaki’s castle. Although the futon she slept upon admittedly wouldn't comfortably fit two full-grown adults, Camilla wished her husband might trust her enough to sleep beside her one day.

Hoshido's high prince undoubtedly had his own rooms, perhaps as wide and empty as hers, although in four months she'd never seen them.

Swallowing down a sigh she pushed back the covers and got onto her feet, deciding that she could at least brush her hair while mulling. It would not take much time for her morning regiment to pass. Although the safflower-pink lip paint Camilla found pretty and used, she refused to cover her entire face in white, nor did she have her eyebrows plucked and ink imitations painted high on her forehead. Even after a season living within this kingdom, every time a noblewoman smiled with teeth lacquered in black the Nohrian princess had to keep herself from gawking.

Each morning Camilla tended to her own hair, though every so often Charlotte would be in a generous enough mood to wake early and assist her. Although she’d been provided a pair of handmaids by the castle staff, the Hoshidans had always tried styles where it was impossible to wear her crown then suggested locally made outfits which were restrictive and had more layers than a gourmet cake. Unless there was some formal event within the castle, it was simply easier for Camilla and her retainers to handle daily grooming.

She brushed thick sections of her long curls with measured strokes, root to tip, front to back, her scalp tingling with the caresses of the yielding bristles. She’d never been terribly reliant upon handmaids, even at home. During lonely mornings like this she wondered if having another Nohrian to converse with might’ve heartened her if even a little.

"Lady Camilla." Belka's monotone broke through her thoughts. "The Hoshidonese Princess agreed to meet us this morning."

"For the flight, of course." Camilla shut away her wonderings, unvoiced sighs, and fixed a smile onto her face. "Belka dear, could you help me dress? It'd be rude to keep my sister-in-law waiting, and we have a long day ahead of us."

Camilla couldn’t hold back a deep sigh as she settled amidst by her sewing supplies. She’d already excused Nyx to write reports to send back to Nohr, Charlotte had been dismissed for her precious free time, and she’d ordered Belka to keep watch on the gardens surrounding the pavilion with hopes that the former assassin might take in its serenity. It was currently too early for her company to have arrived for their scheduled session— Camilla was as alone as a princess could be and although she’d never admit it, she was thankful for the moment of solitude and respite.

After a flight on their mounts and a quick morning meal, the princesses and their retainers had descended into Shirazaki city proper to manage the preparations for the upcoming festival. From the way her sister-in-law had conducted herself and spoken with authority to civil servants, shop keepers, and temple officials, it was evident Hoshido’s first princess was well experienced in planning such. Hinoka had insisted that she’d wanted Camilla to accompany her so she could observe and learn, as those duties would fall to her within a year’s time.

A valuable opportunity as she’d been preoccupied during the festival held in the spring, yet the Nohrian princess had found herself distracted. Camilla had always been observant, she likely wouldn't've survived to adulthood if she hadn't been. That's why she’d quickly to noticed that many of her would-be subjects were less than welcoming.

As they'd been about Shirazaki all had bowed, deeply to Hinoka and more often than not shallowly to Camilla. Although she was still learning the nuances to Hoshidan etiquette, the insult had been clear as their skies. For weeks she’d also seen the way nobility and commoners alike would avert their gaze when Hinoka or other royalty looked their way, in this land it was considered polite. It made the fact that while walking the city many Hoshidans had openly stared at her all the more glaring to Camilla. With a moment’s peace she couldn’t help but mull that they viewed her not with respect, but as a curiosity to be gawked at or more often than not with wariness that came from watching something dangerous. These things combined with the lofty tone most had taken while explaining their traditions to a foreigner had made what otherwise might be a pleasant trip into the city a tiring affair.

Camilla tried to cheer herself by remembering the glares Hinoka had sent on her behalf, but it’d been largely the exception. She’d been warned many times that her life in Hoshido would be a difficult one with the bloody history between their kingdoms. Yet in terms of physical threats she’d found it to be… peaceful, near placid. Even if ugly looks were sent her way, she hadn’t felt any killing intent while walking the streets and found the average Hoshidan to be fairly harmless. It was more the circus of the court that was trying her patience. Camilla had already lost count of the times she’d told off those here who believed Nohrians could be bedded as easily as asking. Vindicated not only by the principal but also by the need to gain the trust of a society with views so very different than her own. Despite the distance Ryouma kept from her, Camilla knew he’d consider it a great betrayal if her eyes should wander— just as she’d noticed his own had not. The gossip running rampant about Nohrians would only grow worse should she slip even once.

With a sharp exhale, Camilla closed her eyes and allowed her mind to go blissfully blank. Time lost meaning as she listened to the many birds with unfamiliar songs and leaves of the lush gardens softly rustling in the gentle breezes. Even her retainer’s barely audible breathing soothed away the frustrations and frazzled composure. Only when footsteps pounded down the manicured path did she open her eyes.

“Apologies for my tardiness!” The Hoshidonese princess fairly jogged onto the pavilion, her lovely face almost as red as her bright hair and breaths quick from her rush. “Takumi would’ve never forgiven me if I’d left him to deal with the Senou’s delegate alone.”

“If it was to help Prince Takumi, then I’ll forgive you.” Camilla smiled and offered a cup of cooled green tea from the tray beside her.

Her sister-in-law shakily returned the smile, sat with her legs neatly tucked beneath her body, and accepted the drink. She calmed her breathing with a few measured inhales and exhales, then gulped down the liquid with less delicacy than her sips at formal dinners. If nothing else her disregard for etiquette comforted the Nohrian princess that they were growing more comfortable around one another.

Once she’d set aside the cup, Camilla shook open the patchwork blanket they had been working on together. She drew a white silken thread through the eye of a needle and handed it to Hinoka alongside pins, cushion, thimble, the thread’s skein, and then took up her own tools. With the fabric spread over both their laps they got to work, allowing for only inconsequential talk as they set into the rhythm of industry.

From the start of their lessons together it’d been obvious that Hinoka had little practice or natural talent for needlework. More often than not she dropped stitches or snarled threads in the even simplest of lines. Part of Camilla reveled in the superiority of her own skills, of having the advantage and authority, but she kept such feelings buried deep and let the larger part of her appreciate someone relying upon her.

After all, these sewing sessions were the steadiest times of companionship she had with her brother’s betrothed, as Hinoka was nearly as busy during the day as Hoshido’s high prince and king. Most often Nohrian princess was left to her own devices, usually with only her retainers and the castle staff for company. Her brother-in-law still puffed himself up like a wary cat whenever she approached him, nearly hissing at her in speech. In weeks prior it’d been Hoshido’s second princess who’d most frequently kept Camilla company, offering tours and stilted but innocent conversation.

Such visits ceased with ongoing preparations for the upcoming celebration. Camilla missed the youngest princess’ presence, no matter how some might argue that Sakura was so soft-spoken as to be easily overlooked. They’d seen her that very day at the temple, but she had not returned to the castle with them.

It had her asking, “Is Sakura really not going to return home tonight?”

“Until the purification cloth has been woven Sakura will live at the temple with the other shrine maidens and nuns.” Hinoka said as she struggled to undo yet another mistake. “This isn't the first time she's worked the loom, so she'll probably finished a few days before the festivities begin.”

Purification— it was a ritual which Hoshido’s religious officials seemed to be obsessed with. Even at her wedding the rice wine she’d drank was supposedly meant to purify. Camilla held some doubts, but wanted to understand her new home’s preoccupation. So she asked, “How does a cloth purify?”

Hinoka paused her struggle with the thread and looked her in the eye. “Well, I admit I don't understand all the subtleties, but as the shrine maiden weaves the cloth on the loom she offers prayers- for protection, good weather, and plentiful harvest in the coming season. The finished cloth will be burnt as an offering to the gods at the festival.”

"They'll burn it?" Camilla couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice. "But darling Sakura has been working at that loom for weeks."

“Yes, but my sister understands that will happen. It's an act of sacrifice to please the gods for the good of our people.”

This also was something different, the many shrines and alters within Hoshido and how they regularly offered material goods as sacrifices— as if the gods required sustenance only the worshipers could provide. It was strange to Camilla’s sense of priorities, which didn’t hide as she said, “Still… I can’t help but find it a little tragic that all that hard work for good cloth will go up in a puff of smoke.”

Hinoka was giving her an openly curious look, “…what would you rather happen to it?”

“I’d rather the cloth be made into clothing for a person who needed it, then all those prayers could keep someone warm.” Camilla couldn’t hold back a pleased hum as memories chased after the thought. “When my mothers and nursemaid first taught me how to sew, they told me that I should only do needlework with a glad heart so that well wishes are stitched in as well. Sakura’s weaving doesn’t sound so different, except no one will be able to enjoy it.”

Hinoka’s entire face lit up. “M-my mother told me that too! Or… something like it. She said stitches should be made as blessings, and she embroidered a little green frog onto our clothing for good fortune.” The brightness of her expression faded as she stared at her contribution to the patchwork. “Though mine looks more like a curse.”

“Don’t let it trouble you, no one begins as a master.” Camilla tied off a thread and cut it with her teeth. “Besides, it’s not as if my brother will expect you to darn his socks.”

The vivid blush that’d faded from her sister-in-law’s face came back with a vengeance. Her gaze fell to the nervous movement of her own hands. “I thought that every highborn woman in Nohr learned sewing.”

“They do, but not all have the disposition to master it. There’ll be no fault found if you can’t make the tapestries for the nursery yourself.” Hinoka looked unconvinced, and it reminded Camilla of Hoshido’s rigid expectations— that this lack of feminine appeal might have her worried. Camilla weighed her words carefully as she said, “Marx’s mother, Ektrina, was a commander of Nohr’s wyvern knights before she became queen. My kingdom has an appreciation for strong women.” _Unlike yours,_ remained unsaid.

“You’re too kind, Princess Camilla,” Hinoka gaze remained lowered and her voice was soured by an undertone of bitterness.

Self-pity was not something the Nohrian princess could abide when she battled it within herself every day.

“Hinoka,” Camilla waited until those bright eyes met her own. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“W-what?” Hinoka’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

She tucked the needle safely away and set aside her tools. “Many disapprove of our fathers' arrangement for peace between the kingdoms. My presence hasn’t been universally welcomed here.”

Hinoka’s face paled and there it was, that look— pity mixed with guilt. Perhaps for a fellow princess whose future had been used as a bargaining chip and that they were both fated for lands not of their birth. Perhaps because she’d seen firsthand how her own family had been divided on opinion of how to treat the foreign princess, and now she feared her own reception. Perhaps because though she wanted to see them as the same, but had yet to reconcile that they were completely different people.

"In Nohr's court smiling faces often disguise ugly thoughts. One must be careful not to open arms too wide least you be stabbed in the heart." Hinoka's mouth pressed into a grim line at her words, and Camilla didn't offer a smile. "Here at least the nobility are upfront with their disapproval of me. It will make knowing when I've changed their minds clearly evident."

That look in Hinoka’s eyes had been replaced with one of acknowledgement and admiration. “…you are strong, Camilla.”

She allowed a sincere smile and said, “All women are, some just take longer to realize than others. Now you must promise to show me Queen Ikona’s frog embroidery, because it sounds too adorable to miss.”

The evening had concluded as usual, with the royal family gathered to dine together. Although with Sakura’s absence it’d been as tense as when Camilla had first arrived: her sister-in-law and father-in-law tried to fill the silence of her husband while her brother-in-law sent skeptical glances. Thankfully it’d been brief, she and her retainers currently walked the creaky halls while deciding what to do next.

Charlotte volunteered her thoughts without even being asked. “I think we should go to that training house and beat the stuffing out of some dummies. Stress relief would be good for us all after that terrible treatment from Hoshidan savages-”

The Nohrian princess interrupted her retainer, “Don’t talk about my people that way, Charlotte, or I shall have to punish you.”

The blonde made a skeptical noise. “Your people?”

“Yes, I will be their queen after all.” Camilla replied, reveling in Charlotte’s frustrated grunt. She then looked to her other retainer and asked, “What would you like to do Belka?”

The smaller woman wasn’t looking at her but gazing about the hall with suspicion. It wasn’t the first time the former assassin had stayed silent and on the alert. There were many times where it seemed like she watched shadows that weren’t there.

“Princess Camilla.”

The new voice brought all the women to a halt. Where there’d previously been a clear hallway now stood one of her husband’s retainer, Kagerou. The woman dipped into a bow as soon as she had her attention and said, “My lord requests that you bathe this evening.”

The Nohrian princess dipped her head in understanding and smiled, “Please tell Prince Ryouma that I would be happy to receive him tonight.”

The ninja nodded and moved away with perfectly balanced grace, like a cat walking upon a wall.

“I guess that cancels any plans,” Charlotte huffed.

Camilla dismissed them both for the night and went to the baths of Shirazaki castle. After scrubbing herself down and putting up her hair, she soaked in the hot water with only her thoughts for company.

The first time such a request had been sent it’d shocked her, made her fret over her perfumes and scent of her cleaned clothing. However, after the second and the third and the fourth and more, Camilla had found that message always proceeded Ryouma visiting her chambers to do his husbandly duties and that he himself would always be freshly bathed. It seemed to be a sort of unspoken rule in Hoshido that one visited the baths before bedroom activities occurred.

It was not this difference in custom that bothered her, but the fact that Ryouma had only entered Camilla's rooms when he intended to lie with her and that he never lingered after the deed was done. She very much doubted that this was a simple misunderstanding and had more to do with the fact that her husband only seemed to interact with her when necessary. It was a conundrum, one she’d not been able to come up with a solution for, turning down Nyx’s offer of love potions or hexes.

The memory of waking that morning came back to her, of wistfully wishing that she wouldn’t feel so lonely, and no longer was she in the mood for steamy heat.

The Nohrian princess arrived in her rooms and realized she should not have cut her bath short, as you now had a wealth of time to kill. She settled into the room and noticed, not for the first time, that the noise seemed to be constant in Hoshido. Even in the privacy of her room, the walls were so thin that every sound seemed to float in— whether the bustling of servants in the hall or the wildlife in the surrounding gardens. It’d felt chaotic compared to her silent chambers in Krackenstien castle; every so often she gave into restlessness and went for a walk under the moon and stars.

However, Camilla had extended an invitation that night and shouldn’t leave this room or allow herself to doze. So she decided to compose a short letter home by light of the paper lamp. While King Sumeragi had generously gifted her a full Hoshidonese writing set of brushes and inkstone, she preferred the practiced calligraphy she could achieve with a crow feather quill and inkwell. Although Camilla would never be able to share her every longing and struggle with her family who lived across the world, she did permit herself to be open with her thoughts— sharing joys, frustrations, and requesting advice.

As she punctuated her final thought on the paper, the musical creaking of the hallway floorboards joined the nightly crickets’ chirping and croaking of frogs. Camilla placed her drying letter out of view, then moved to stand beside her laid out futon in anticipation. She watched as a shadow was cast against the paper of the latticed dividers. The figure halted and then there was a hard rapping against the bamboo frame. Camilla bade them enter, the door slid open to reveal the expected visitor.

Ryouma almost flowed through the doorway, quietly shutting it behind him. He walked further into her room and his footsteps almost silent on the woven mats. His whole body seemed to be at ease, as always he moved with a loose-limbed grace. Yet the way his eyes searched the darkened corners and lingered on her hands, Camilla knew he was far from relaxed. It caused a pang in her heart, the emotions too tangled to sort in a single moment, so she buried it and focused on the man in her room.

He’d already gotten close and efficiently removed his silk sleeping robe, folding it into a neat pile upon the matted floor. His sun-tanned skin was hairless in a way Nohrian men weren’t, just as there was a strength to his build that was deceptively sleek. Apart from King Sumeragi, he had the longest hair she’d ever seen on a man, the wild strands falling past his waist. Those long, long locks that she’d never threaded between her fingers. The crossing of his arms drew her from her musings. Ryouma stood naked, just outside arms’ reach, and she smelled the barest hints of incense wafting from him.

On their wedding night Camilla had worn lace, chiffon, and satin lingerie made by Vindam's finest seamstress, the same who’d constructed her dream of a gown. Yet rather than treating her as a pretty gift to be carefully unwrapped, her groom’s eyes had been fixed to hers until they’d consummated in a position where she'd felt more like an animal than a bride. She'd only worn ruffled temptations a few more times and received similar stony reactions, before she'd given up and worn comfortable sleepwear regardless of invitation.

Despite this, she refused to surrender completely. She’d enjoyed intimacy and sensuality since she’d come of age-]— no one would cause her to abandon either. Camilla slowly tugged open the ties that kept her nightgown closed, sensuously slipped out of the sleeves and let it fall to the floor. She brushed back a wayward curl of hair with a motion that drew the eye to her revealed body, watching her husband from beneath the fringe of her eyelashes.

His gaze hadn’t shifted from her face, likely watching her watch him, as he gestured to the bedding. Much to her disappointment they took up the position on the futon that’d become their usual, with her facing away from him. As Ryouma placed himself behind her his long, dark hair curtained them both, where the strands fell on her back Camilla felt lingering dampness which caused a shiver to run through her. She waited for his hands to take their place anchoring her wrists and ruthlessly uprooted the resentment sprouting in her heart.

“…what’s this?”

Camilla fairly spun around at the soft murmur and found Ryouma examining an item that she must’ve left beside her pillow, it looked small and delicate in his big hand.

There'd been a trencher of clams steamed in rice wine for the evening meal, and like a naughty child the Nohrian princess had snuck half of an empty shell away from the table. She'd cleaned it and intended to keep it. For while the outside was white and smooth, the inside was a purple as dark as her brother's eyes.

Their bodies were close, the closest they’d ever been without coupling in full, and for once they were face-to-face. Camilla could see that the color of her husband’s eyes was a darker amber than that of his sisters. In this strange moment, his eyes didn’t hold a flat stare but rather glinted with curiosity.

Those curious eyes remained upon the shell as he asked, “Do you intended to carve or paint this?”

She shook her head and asked, “Is that what shells are used for here?”

“By some artisans.” His mouth twitched and Camilla felt a dangerous lick of heat strike through her at the way his lips curved. That was the first true smile she’d seen from him, warm and languid as she looked up at him from her bed. “Hinoka has told me you are one with a needle and thread.”

Despite the mildness of the compliment it had her cheeks heating with a blush

His eyes moved from the shell and he seemed to catch himself. “Excuse the distraction,” he said, setting it back beside the pillow. "I should not burden you with prolonged visits."

Confident that he watched her every move, Camilla deliberately tilted her head and exposed more of her bare throat. “Who said it’s a burden? Stay, if it pleases you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to [Isangma](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Isangma) for putting up with my behind the scenes hassling.
> 
> This fic’s title was cobbled from “Cloths of Heaven” by William Butler Yeats, to stick with the theme. The summer festival I vaguely modeled after Kikkōden and similarly chose for it's relationship with cloth. Although this is firmly AU, I've based the Hin+Cam interaction on [their Japanese support](http://professor-tammi.tumblr.com/post/122463510767/camillahinoka-support-translations).
> 
> If there's any questions for clarification for what's going on in AMOS!Hoshido feel free to ask here and I'll answer. For context on why Ryouma acts the way he is I recommend reading his [teenage rebellion fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6122668) in this AU series, and remember Camilla's only been there for four months so everything's still new and shaky.


End file.
